All roads lead to Romione
by jammywho
Summary: Some time after they've both left Hogwarts, Ron takes Hermione on a romantic date to the lake where he plans to propose to her. My first effort in the field of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

It was a cloudless night above Hogsmede station. The air was still and resting everywhere except around the boiler of the Hogwarts express, which was emitting an almost silent hum as the magic reverberated around the cold steel. The whole area seemed almost entirely enclosed by trees, with the exception of the passage down to the lake and the tracks that disappeared into the distance. Weather permitting; it could have been the very model of a snowglobe.

Crack!

The air rushed to dissipate as two figures snapped into focus. They had their hands round each other and one's long bushy hair was spilling over the other's jumper. It wasn't proper apparation procedure, although when you knew your apparition partner well enough to anticipate their movements, procedure wasn't necessary.

Or at least, it wasn't necessary this time. And only this time, she'd told him. Hermione had always been very by-the-book and Ron was still trying to encourage a rebellious spirit in her. He thought it would be a lot easier given what they'd been through together, but old habits die hard, he supposed. He'd never really considered it before, but maybe you'd rely on the rules a bit more if a whole world of magic was suddenly dropped on you one day. It explained a lot about Hermione but he was determined to show her you could relax around the supernatural, and more often than not, it would relax around you. Anyway, the hug apparation had gone well though, so maybe she trusted it a little more now.

"Oh, Ron, look, the Hogwarts Express!" Hermione beamed as she pulled him tighter. "Do you remember how we met?"

"Yeah; I was in the compartment with Harry, eating rather a lot, and you…" he cast his mind back- his memory wasn't nearly as good as hers –"you were looking for Trevor"

"Yeah- do you remember which compartment?"

"They all look the same, don't they?"

Hermione gave him a look of faux exasperation before kissing him on the cheek.

"It was carriage C-2"

"Are you sure it wasn't D-2?" Ron taunted.

"It was C-2." Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"If you say so." Ron chuckled. He pushed his head further into her hair until he could feel the warmth of her face and smiled. His arm found its way under her jacket and onto the smooth material of her dress. Periwinkle blue- he noted. With his other hand, he patted his pocket to check _the box _was still there. He let out a sigh of relief when he found it was.

And then they started walking down the path to the lake in each others' arms.

There was only one boat moored at the jetty- Ron had reserved it specially. Its sides were lined with pillows and its rim was knotted with a chain of flowers all the way around. Hermione could probably name all the plants by heart (latin names too, probably) but Ron had picked them out by smell. The result was an odd mix of mint and freshly cut grass.

Ron stepped in first to steady the boat (he needn't have bothered- the boats were enchanted to stay perfectly balanced and not disturb the water at all) before extending a hand back to Hermione. She took it gladly and followed him in. The two sat down together, holding hands and smiling. From his pocket, Ron produced an assortment of chocolates, which they happily munched on.

The boat magically untied itself from the jetty and drifted slowly towards the castle. From where they were sitting, the sky was barely distinguishable from the lake, and both were dotted by stars. Torchlight shone from the castle windows and Hermione was suddenly reminded of the first time she'd made this journey. She remembered feeling like royalty, approaching the castle as if it were her own. But having lived there for seven years (she'd gone back for another year after their quest for horcruxes), the excitement had dulled just a little. And yet… when she turned her head to the side and saw Ron's idiotic grin, she felt that feeling again. Her lips parted in what was probably a very toothy smile, but she didn't care. Ron was worth every incisor, every canine, every molar.

As she moved her leg, she could feel the contents of her pocket move around. She liked to be prepared, and pockets, she felt, were the best way to do that. Enhanced by an undetectable extension charm, Hermione's dress pockets had proven very useful. For one thing, there was a box in there she'd been keeping for just the right moment, and when Ron had suggested a spontaneous nostalgia trip to Hogwarts, she figured it might be time for it to come out.

When he thought they'd reached the middle of the lake, Ron tried a non-verbal arresto momentum spell on the boat. His technique was a little wrong and it wouldn't have actually stopped the boat, but he was never to know; as Hermione had cast the same spell perfectly.

To her left, Hermione could just about make out Ron doing something to his face. She took a deep breath and clutched the box in her pocket. When Ron turned back to her, he had some chocolate smeared next to his nose. She laughed.

"You know you've got a little dirt on your face. Just there."

"I know. You said that the first time we met. It's for luck."

"What do you need luck for?"

"For this."

He pulled a box from his pocket. And then he got down on one knee.

Well, almost. Hermione tackled him before his knee reached the floor.

"YES" She shouted, in between kisses. "YES" - kiss - "YES" – kiss - "YES" – kiss - "YES!"

Ron laughed blissfully- he couldn't remember ever being this happy. "Will you marry me, Hermione?"

"OF COURSE I'LL MARRY YOU, YOU MORON!" she peppered him with even more kisses and then she squeezed him in a tight embrace. An embrace Ron didn't think he'd ever be able to get out of and one that he never wanted to be out of.

All these years of being overshadowed by his older brothers and by his best friends and finally there was someone who loved him for him. He was in heaven.

"Can I see the ring?" Hermione asked, barely managing to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Ron opened the box, somewhat hesitantly. It wasn't the fanciest ring in the world. It wasn't big. It didn't glow. It wasn't good enough for her.

After a few seconds of silence, Ron spoke up "I know it's not much, but it's all I could afford on a ministry salary." He stuttered a little and looked at his feet. "But the diamond has a- a sort of spell on it. I think it's like a really watered down version of the unbreakable vow. It won't kill you or anything, but you really shouldn't put it on unless you really want to do thi-"

The ring was already on.

"Oh Ron, I love it." She pulled his lips to hers. "I love you."

"I love you too!" Ron said, relieved. "I didn't mess up the proposal, did I?"

"No, no. Of course not!" Hermione assured him. "Although… I'm not sure how it's done in the wizarding world, but muggles, like my parents, they have a ring each when they get married. Like a matching set."

"Yeah" sighed Ron "we have that too, but this was the only one they had"

"Actually…" Hermione smiled and reached into her own pocket. "They had another one…" she pulled the ring out of its box and showed him. The rings were identical. "Ronald Weasley, will you marry me?"

"Oh hell yeah!" he said, pushing the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly. "I bloody love you, Hermione." And they embraced for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

"Oh flip" exclaimed Ron. "I almost forgot."

He sent red sparks into the air.

"What was that for?"

"Just wait"

And just as he said that, a barrage of fireworks exploded from the castle. Brilliant shades of red and gold burst forth and set the lake ablaze with colour. Dragons, made of sparks, swooped low and circled their boat, breathing flames which let loose even more fantastic figures: a house elf, a basilisk, a hippogriff, and in the centre, a hare and a terrier playfully climbing all over each other.

The lovers laid back in their boat and looked up, taking in the sights.

"Are those-" Hermione started.

"Weasley brand fireworks, yeah." Beamed Ron. "Fred and George made them specially for us"

"Isn't Fred…?"

"Very busy? I suppose, but I weren't there to be pranked all the time, they wouldn't have started a business at all. I reckon they owe me this one."

As the fireworks died down, the boat started up again and slowly made its way to the castle. Only this time the boat was rocking.

From her office, Minerva McGonagall looked down on the lake and at her two former students, content and exchanging rings. She turned her head to the forest and sent a patronus down to the twins to tell them to stop the fireworks. Nothing made her happier than seeing two of her students forming such a strong bo-

WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

She raised a pointed eyebrow and closed her curtains. _That sort of thing_ she did not need to see.

Drawing a leather bound notebook from her desk, Minerva turned to a secret page at the back. On it was a series of names; two to a line, some of which with ticks next to them. Her quill hovered over the page, passing over 'Potter J and Evans' (ticked), and then a little further down; 'Finnegan and Thomas' (ticked) until she found the names she was looking for.

Granger and Weasley R.

Tick.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the perfect day for a wedding. Sunny but not too sunny. Warm but not too hot. Birds already singing in the day. It was not so perfect, however, for hangover sufferers.

Hermione, still half asleep and recovering from her impromptu bachelorette party, was stumbling around the apartment, trying to find her phone. It was probably somewhere in the sofa. Luckily, not the fold out one Luna and Ginny were sleeping on. Her left hand felt across the cushions, and seeing the ring, felt a smile cross her face. Then, after seeing her nails, a stab of embarrassment. Her fingernails had been painted all sorts of colours, not always staying on the nail. On the fourth finger seemed to be a picture of what could be Ron, if one had never really seen Ron or if they thought freckles were the size of golf balls.

Oh God, she thought. I forgot I was an artsy drunk.

Her hand dug deeper between the sofa cushions to hide her handiwork. Something plastic grazed her fingers, so she fumbled until it was firmly in her hand. That didn't feel like a phone… Hermione blushed and pushed it further down into the sofa. Once again, she wished Ginny had more appropriate ideas about gift giving.

Aha! There it was. She turned it on to see Ron's face beaming back at her, and in front of that, a text bubble with the message "voicemail (1)". She clicked on it and was almost deafened by what came out.

"HELLO H –hic- HERMIONE" shouted Ron, who had still not quite mastered the concept of a telephone. Nor alcohol, by the sounds of it. "'S ME! YOUR FEYON- FEE- hang on a minute. HEY GUYS, WHASSA WORD FOR SOMEONE WHO'S ABOUT TO DO THE MARRIAGE THING?"

"Feyonce", she said, out of habit. In doing so, she missed what was being said at the other end of the line. It sounded like Fred or George had made a smart arse response.

"TA, GUYS. 'SYOUR BEYONCE HERE. I CALLED YOUR TELLYPHONE BECAUSE I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!"

Hermione went red as her cheeks were pushed back by a smile.

Ron paused for breath, and Harry's voice could be heard mentioning something about putting a ring on it.

"ARRY BE QUIET. I'M ON THE PHONE! MERLIN'S BALLS, MAN! YOU'VE BEEN –whassaword?- ROOSTER BLOCKING ME FOR BLOODY YEARS. LEMME TALK TO MA WIFEY FOR ONE BLOODY MINUTE! 'SBAD ENOUGH YA SHACKIN' UP WITH GINNY. 'MIONE, WHEN YOU'RE THROWING THE BOOK-ET, MAKE SURE GINNY DOESN'T CATCH IT ALRIGHT? I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S A CHASER. MAKE IT SNEAKY WILL YA?"

The phone emitted a series of thuds and crackles as there was a bit of a fight over the mobile at the other end. The next voice was Harry's.

"I'm really really sorry, 'Mione. He'ssss a little bit tipsy."

"GIMME BACK THE PHONE" more crackles as Ron tackled Harry from behind and it clattered to the floor.

"MALRIGHT. I'VE GOT IT. YOU MAY BE THE BOY WHO LIVED BUT I'M THE GUY WHO HASSA PHONE. AN… AND I'MMA GUY WHO'S GONNA MARRY HERMIONE. SO THERE!"

What followed sounded a lot like someone sticking their tongue out and blowing. It might also be Ron kissing the picture of Hermione on the phone.

"Ron, stop shagging that Veela!" giggled one of the twins.

"SHU'UP. EAT SLUGS, GEORGE"

"How you gonna do that with no wand?"

"YOU WANT A WAND? I'LL SHOW YOU A WAND!"

There was another crackle as the phone dropped again, but there was another sound; a mix of laughter and shock. Then the phone beeped and the voicemail ended.

Hearing her future husband on the phone went a long way in helping her hangover and her mood. So much so that she was practically singing when she started making breakfast. Halfway through frying the bacon, she heard a high pitched voice call her name.

The voice belonged to the little house elf that she and Ron had rescued from an abusive home. When they had found her, she was bruised and black-eyed, naked and without a name. They'd taken her in and, at Luna's suggestion, gave her the name "Dobbette" and a little baby dress they'd borrowed from Molly Weasley. Since then, she'd been living in Ron and Hermione's apartment, where Hermione had tried to tell her about house elf rights and S.P.E.W. However, Dobbette was still a little stuck in her ways, but she was learning to enjoy her new wardrobe and of course, getting paid.

Hermione looked down at the elf, dressed in her dressed in specially knitted pyjamas and across her shoulders…

"Um, you do know those aren't actually shoulder-pads, right?" Hermione sniggered, gesturing at the bra the elf was wearing on her shoulders.

"My apologies, miss." Dobbette squeaked, removing it and holding it out.

"Please call me Hermione, Dobbette." She tried. "Now you get that back to Ginny and I'll make some breakfast."

"Um…" Dobbette wasn't quite sure what to do now.

Hermione stuttered. "No…" She put a hand up to her breast. It was soft and warm, but it was missing something. "NO!" She snatched it back and hastily hooked it back on. Why, drunk Hermione, why?

She sighed, both at her drunken antics and at the fact that her chest was now confined in a lacy prison and decided to just get on with making breakfast. Almost the instant the bacon was ready, Luna and Ginny appeared in the kitchen with rumbling stomachs.

"What's for breakfast?" asked Luna, while trying to sort out all the blonde hair curls covering her face.

"Smells like bacon to me." Ginny beamed, gripping her knife and fork expectantly. Her hair wasn't causing her any trouble, as it was almost permanently tied back in a pony tail.

"I don't know if it's different for wizards," Hermione began, her voice dripping with sass. "but traditionally, the bridesmaids are supposed to help the bride on her wedding day"

"Traditions are made to be broken" rebuffed Ginny.

"You mean _rules _are made to be broken" Hermione corrected her.

There was silence.

"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?" asked Luna.

"Ha ha." Hermione sarcasmed. "Bacon's done. Does one of you want to make the eggs?"

"No thank you"

"It's a good hangover cure"

"I'm on it" Ginny waved her wand and eggs started scrambling themselves in mid air.

Hermione suddenly realised that she'd been using her hands all morning. "Have you girls seen my wand?"

"Yeah," yawned Luna. "We gave it a little polish last night and we put it in that case on the fireplace."

Ah, yes. The fireplace. It wasn't connected to a chimney, as this was, after all, part of a block of flats on the outskirts of the city. There had been quite a long series of negotiations as to where to live. Ron suggested the inner city, as it was easier to get into the ministry office that way, but Hermione insisted on paying the muggle landlord in proper muggle money and not just using a confundus charm, although that proved to be too expensive, so they chose a flat that could only just be considered a part of London. The rent was cheaper, but Ron had insisted on a connection to the Floo Network. Hence the fireplace, (although installing that required, ironically, a confundus charm)

But what was her wand doing in a case on top of it, she asked.

"It's all part of the ceremony, Hermione. You can have it back when you're at the altar." Ginny assured her, pulling the floating egg mush to her mouth and taking a bite. "Bleah. Not done yet."

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Luna. "They've done the same for Ron."

"You're both being remarkably secretive about all this." Hermione said, one eyebrow raised. She'd only been to one wizarding marriage before and she couldn't remember anything to do with the couple's wands. But then again, her memory of it might be overshadowed by the announcement that the ministry had fallen and that death eaters were on their way. She probed them a little more, but they both seemed to enjoy knowing something Hermione didn't for once, although they assured her it was nothing bad.

In all the confusion, she'd entirely forgotten about the bacon, which Dobbette was now serving to Ginny and Luna. She was sure she'd told the elf before that she didn't need to do so much work, but she made sure to thank her for saving her bacon.

And then, stomachs full, the talk turned to the imminent wedding; make up, how to tame Hermione's hair, last minute guests, flowers, evading Daily Prophet paparazzi and the like, but all of that almost went over Hermione's head, because all she could think was that she'd be marrying Ronald Bilius Weasley in fewer than seven hours.


End file.
